


Dance, or Fade Out

by Eloarei



Category: Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name
Genre: AU, Crack, M/M, Ridiculous, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-07
Updated: 2012-11-07
Packaged: 2017-11-18 04:41:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eloarei/pseuds/Eloarei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The result of a conversation along the lines of "What if all the characters worked at a strip club?!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance, or Fade Out

He sat outside in his parked car for quite some time as he debated whether or not he ought to actually go inside. On one hand, a strip club was a horrible place to be seen, especially if one's new co-workers happen to be the ones seeing. On the other hand, he was probably more likely to be seen while he sat out here and thought about it, and anyone who saw him once he was inside wasn't likely to judge. That was nearly enough incentive to get Ples unbuckled and through the door under the bright neon sign; curiosity and loneliness were enough to guide him the rest of the way.

The bouncer was, somehow, a pipsqueak of a young man, blonde, shaggy-haired, and thin, but dressed very nicely. 

“Thank you,” Ples said to him as the boy held the door. He recalled a shred of strip-club etiquette from somewhere in the recesses of his mind and tipped the scrawny bouncer a twenty, since there was no cover charge. 

The young man's grin widened and he nodded Ples through to the main room, where the music and cheering indicated a show was starting. The older man slipped in as inconspicuously as possible, which probably just made him stand out, and seated himself at a small table towards the back of the room. A simply-dressed young waiter came by to ask his order, and returned several minutes later with a Thursday House-Special, exactly what Ples felt he needed in a situation like this. 

Sighing, he took a sip of his drink, and tried not to think. When that plan failed, he downed the rest of the glass' contents and let himself drown in thoughts of ' _What in the world am I doing here?_ ' 

True, he'd been a bit lonely since moving to this cold new city, but coming to a strip club wasn't the proper remedy for that. Likely all he'd do here was get drunk (something he could easily do in the comfort of his own too-new home), and waste a lot of money tipping bouncers, waiters, and dancers who couldn't possibly give a damn about him. Oh, he was sure they'd smile, just the same as they did for the other customers, but he doubted they'd care much for him, let alone remember his face. A mild-mannered, middle-aged accountant wasn't going to draw much attention from such beautiful, colorful creatures. 

He waved his hand at the lurking waiter, hoping for a quick refill, then turned to look at the other customers as he waited. Most of them were men probably near his age, some much older, some much younger (and much rowdier, those ones), but there were a few women scattered about the crowd, somewhat to his surprise. The lovely young male dancers flirted visibly with each of the watchers, sometimes sitting down to chat as their fellow performers danced in the half-shadows around them and up on the well-lit stage. 

Ples both hoped and dreaded that one of the scantily-clad boys would dance up to him, unsure what to expect if one of them did. 

As if on cue, one of the boys danced up from behind him and flashed him a charming smile full of sharp teeth and self-confidence. “Hey there, newcomer,” he said, looking Ples up and down. “Haven't seen you around here before.”

Wishing that waiter would come back with his drink soon, Ples swallowed dryly. “Er, yes, this is my first time here. ...It's... nice.” 

The sharp-toothed boy laughed as if that were the funniest thing he'd heard all night, gave Ples another quick, studying look and a mischievous grin, and strutted off in the direction of a more crowded table. 

' _Not his type, I suppose.'_ Ples thought, lamenting slightly the absence of the boy's bright green gaze upon him. ' _Oh well, it's nothing,'_ he told himself, though his eyes continued to follow as the dancer moved from table to table. He danced on a few of them, and in a few lucky patrons' laps, swiveling his blue-green hips in an enticing manner. Once or twice he thought the boy glanced back his way, but figured he was probably just looking at someone in his path. 

Songs came and went; customers disappeared briefly behind curtains with dancers, and returned with flushed faces. A few other boys approached him, striking up casual conversations or asking if he'd like a dance, but mostly he declined politely, too distracted by the hypnotic movements of that first teal-clad boy to really give much attention to any of the others. They seemed to understand; “Everyone has their favorites,” one murmured as he sauntered off, “'though they usually at least _pretend_ to be interested when a guy's shaking his ass in their face.”

It was nearing the end of the night, the last song's heavy dance beat fading into the background, when the green-eyed young man appeared before him again. 

“The show's over, y'know,” he said. “They'll be kickin' you out soon.”

Ples occupied his mouth by finishing up the last of his final drink. He wasn't quite sure what the boy was really saying, or why he kept giving him the once/twice/thrice-over, so he opted not to respond. 

“ _Unless,_ ” the boy continued, as if he'd not paused at all, “you wanna come back stage for a while.” He batted his mascaraed eyelashes and tilted his head towards the curtained back wall of the stage. 

The older man nearly choked on his drink, the alcohol burning twice as hard as it fought its way down his throat. “I'm sorry?” 

The teal boy laughed, grinning with those sharp teeth of his. “C'mon, you have the time, right?” He grabbed Ples' hand as it finally released the glass, and dragged him up out of his seat and into the hallway behind the stage. “How long d'ya wanna go for?” he asked on the way, almost tripping Ples with his forwardness. 

“I, I don't know, I h-hadn't been planning...-” 

The boy dragged Ples through one of the identical doors further down the hallway, pushing him down towards the large bed in the middle of the small room, and locking the door behind him. “Really?” he asked, raising an eyebrow with a look of disbelief. “How much ya got, then?

Ples stood up from the plush bed and pulled out his wallet. “Ah, about one-hundred and twenty, but I wasn't intending--” 

He was pushed back down mid-sentence, then quickly straddled. “That'll getcha a good hour,” he said, licking his lips and leaning forward to breathe in Ples' ear. “How do you like it? Rough, slow, top, bottom? I'm pretty flexible.” 

For a moment, Ples could do nothing but stammer, unsure quite how he'd gotten himself into this situation so suddenly. (' _Although I should have expected something like this,'_ he told himself. ' _Is this not what I came for?_ ') But then a question popped into his head, both important for propriety's sake, and useful for stalling until he could make up his mind. 

“What is your name?”

The boy's eyebrows drew down and he cocked his head, as if he'd just been asked the most ridiculous question. “Maneater,” he responded, almost unsurely. 

Ples laughed but shook his head. “Surely that's not your _real_ name? I can't imagine your parents could be that cruel.” 

“You'd be surprised,” 'Maneater' said, grimacing comically. He paused for a moment, then continued, “...But it's Veser.” 

“Veser,” Ples repeated. “That's a much nicer name. But does that make Maneater your _middle_ name?” 

“It should be,” Veser replied, the lusty gravel creeping back into his voice again. “But you don't have to take my word for it. Let me show you first-hand.” He ran his tongue slowly over his dagger-like teeth as he grinned predatorily. 

Ples couldn't help himself but back away from the boy. It wasn't that he didn't find Veser attractive (he certainly did), or that he didn't like the boy (how could he know? They'd said all of five sentences to each other). Just that, well, it didn't seem right. Paying to have sex with a young man he hardly knew was such a breach of the rules he'd so long ago set up for himself that it felt like a betrayal. His brain was very adamantly saying, “No, no, do _not_ take advantage of this boy!”, although his heart was skipping along at an alarming rate, and various other parts of his body were pretty sure that this _boy_ was clearly the one taking advantage of _him_ , and didn't really mind. 

Still, he held up his hand between them and cleared his throat as confidently as he could. “Wait. V-veser, I don't think I can do this. No, no, I _cannot_ do this.” 

Veser backed off just slightly, giving himself enough room to reach down to the front of Ples' pants. “Don't see why not,” he said, smirking. “Looks like you've got a good start to me!” 

The older man scrambled back instinctively, cringing both at the intimate contact and the sudden lack of it. “It's not that! It's, it's improper. It's not right.” 

The lecherous grin on Veser's face froze and slowly devolved into a scowl. “Whaddya mean it's not right? Who the fuck are you to say that what I do isn't _right_?! Not fucking proper.” He stood from his kneeling position on the end of the fluffy bed and moved to open the heavy door. “Fine. If that's how you're gonna be, you can just get your proper fucking ass out of here before I call our bouncer up here.” 

To be honest, Ples wasn't all that frightened by the threat, the bouncer in question being probably less than two-hundred pounds, but the young dancer's tone of voice and abrupt change in attitude made his blood turn to ice. “I- I'm sorry,” he began to stammer, “I didn't mean to imply--” 

But Veser was beyond the point of listening. “Look, if you don't wanna fuck, then just get out, old man! Stop wasting my time.” He crossed his arms and glared impatiently at Ples, and the man had no choice but to obey. Cautiously, he stood from the bed and brushed himself off. Fishing out his wallet, he grabbed a few bills and left them on the ornate bedside table. Then, watching the angry boy like a rabbit watches a wolf, he edged out of the room, muttering only a last quiet “I'm sorry” before quickly removing himself from the young man's sight. 

Veser didn't breathe until the offending customer was gone, and then the air came in a choked sigh. “Fuck!” he yelled, pounding the wall in his frustration. 

A small, redheaded coworker emerged from one of the adjacent rooms with a look of curious concern. “What's the matter, Ves?” he asked, tilting his head like an exotic bird. “One of your customers being a jerk again?” 

The sharp-toothed boy rolled his eyes, but wouldn't look his friend in the face. “Yeah, y'know. Just some stuck-up prick who thinks people like us are the scum of the earth. No big deal.” 

“Hey, well you know it's not true!” he heard the redhead say as he turned to head back into the room. “Don't let it get you down.” 

“Thanks, Hanna,” he said softly as he closed the door behind him. Sighing noisily, he flopped down on the bed, abandoning all pretense of grace. After a moment, he lifted his head from the downy pillow and eyed the cash on the nightstand. _'One-twenty, huh? I've taken less for an insult... Doubt he'll ever be back, though.'_ Grumbling to himself, Veser rolled over and pulled the plush comforter up around him. “Fine. Wasn't my type anyway.” He closed his eyes and decided he'd sort out the night's earnings after a nap, knowing nobody would mind. 

“God, what a fuckin' night,” he mumbled, trying not to dwell, but failing. _'What sort of idiot asks a prostitute for their fucking name but doesn't wanna screw 'em? Self-righteous asshole.'_

But as he drifted off, he couldn't help remembering the man's soft voice. _“Veser. That's a much nicer name.”_ Somehow, he could quite help the barely-conscious smile that crept up on him either.

**Author's Note:**

> Considering that I wrote this over two years ago, with inspiration from a now-defunct RP group, it may or may not ever actually get continued. XD;


End file.
